To Be In Rome
by Winter Jackson
Summary: When in Rome, one would normally expect to be touring the Coleseum or other ruins like that. Maybe eating legit pizza from Italy. You know, touristy stuff. Not for this couple, for when they were in Rome, they fell into the seemingly bottomless recycling bin of doom. An inside look in Tartarus. Threeshot. Part One-Inside the Pit Part Two-Battle of the Doors Part Three-To Be Healing


Percy shuddered as the cold of Tartarus gripped his body. The gravity of Tartarus seemed wonky, like they were on Jupiter (the planet, not the god). One of Annabeth's random facts spouted off in his head: _Your weight on Jupiter would be about six-point-five-three times the weight you would be on Earth_. That's kind of what it felt like, like he was being crushed by gravity. He tightened his grip on Annabeth's hand.

Darkness pressed in on him from every side. _The sea does not like to be restrained._ There was a reason why he was claustrophobic.

Then he was attacked by his first vision.

* * *

"The sky," Percy told Artemis urgently. "Give it to me."

"No, boy," she said through clenched teeth. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, like quicksilver. "You don't know what you're asking. It will crush you!"

"Annabeth took it!" Percy protested.

"She barely survived. She had the spirit of a true huntress. You will not last so long."

"I'll die anyway," he said stubbornly. "Give me the weight of the sky!"

He didn't wait for her answer. Percy took out Riptide and slashed through her chains. Then he stepped next to her and braced himself on one knee—holding up his hands—and touched the cold, heavy clouds. For a moment, Artemis and Percy bore the weight together. It was the heaviest thing he'd ever felt, as if Percy were being crushed under a thousand trucks. He wanted to black out from the pain, but Percy breathed deeply. _I can do this_.

Then Artemis slipped out from under the burden, and Percy held it alone.

Afterward, he tried so many times to explain what it felt like. He couldn't.

Every muscle in hia body turned to fire. His bones felt like they were melting. Percy wanted to scream, but he didn't have the strength to open his mouth. Percy began to sink, lower and lower to the ground, the sky's weight crushing him.

* * *

With horrible certainty, Percy realized why Tartarus was never ventured into, even by gods. Your worst moments would be shown to you, over and over and over...and he also realized why his girlfriend wouldn't last long.

Annabeth, the logical daughter of Athena, was just that—_logical_. She would dwell on the visions, trying to find some meaning to them, trying to decipher them...when there was nothing to decipher. Just blatant, horrible, truth.

And with horrible clarity, Percy saw what he needed to do.

"Wise Girl?" he asked shakily.

"Yeah?" Her voice was also shaky.

"I love you."

Then he took his free hand and rammed it against her skull, knocking her out instantly. He cringed.

* * *

By the third day in Tartarus came, Percy and Annabeth had rammed into ground, Percy losing consciousness for hours and breaking four of his ribs from breaking an unconscious Annabeth's fall. Percy had also perfected the art of walking through his horrible visions with Annabeth on his back.

* * *

Percy recognized the vision instantly: Michael Yew's death in the Second Titan War.

_You did nothing,_ Tartarus taunted. _Too high on adrenaline, you were, too high on power, you were, oh! see how the mighty fall, the oh-so-invincible Perseus Jackson..._

On and on it went. Percy waited the vision and taunting to disappear. They always did, leaving him brief moments of lucidness to fight off the group of half-reformed monsters that he'd almost walked into, to check on Annabeth and try to heal her as best he could. Her ankle was still wrapped up in its Bubble Wrap cast, and he didn't know enough about First Aid to see if it was healed yet.

Mercifully, the vision ended just as vision-Percy realized that Michael was missing.

Tartarus's voice took on a gleeful note: _Oh, oh, I'll cut this short. So much more fun awaits you!_

Percy guessed that Tartarus's definition of _fun_ did not match his own.

His true vision returned to him: walking along a magma river, the only source of light in Tartarus, as well as the only source of heat. Unfortunately, his vision also picked up a pair of golden eyes. Awesome, let's play smart-mouth the Titan King! (_My favorite game_, Percy thought sarcastically.)

"How the mighty fall, Jackson, huh?"

Percy shrugged, too tired to actually summon a witty retort.

"Think its time to join—"

Anger washed over Percy and he glared at the Titan. "No," he said, his voice colder than Tartarus. "Unlike _you_, I came here of my own free will, and I am, and forever _will be,_ loyal to the gods."

The Titan stepped back in surprise, and Percy continued his rant. "I, unlike _you_, actually got to _know_ the gods, and still don't like some of their descisions, but I also understand that the imagination of centuries-worth of mortals affect them, therefore making them basically super-powered mortals, and guess what? _Mortals. Make. Mistakes,_" Percy snarled. "And unlike _you_, I can _respect_ the gods for facing their mistakes. _I_ am facing a mistake of my own: not realizing that the spider silk tied to Annabeth's ankle led straight to Tartarus. And yet _you_ just simply sit there and ask if I want to _join you_." He spat out the two words like they were nightshade.

"You have nerve, Jackson," Kronos snarled.

"No, really?" Percy snarked. "I never would have guessed! I guess this place brings out the best in people, huh?"

Kronos's glowing golden eyes vanished. "Oh, Jackson," his voice whispered, right next to Percy's ear. "You will rue that moment that you gave that fool Castellan the dagger."

* * *

Percy's vision swam as the whip—coated in Manticore poison—cracked down across Percy's back. Kelli was particurally vengeful, bringing down the whip hard and fast. He was fairly sure that he'd died twice now and then Kronos had turned back time to when Percy wasn't dead, but Percy wasn't completely sure. But it was at least two times, he knew that.

Annabeth was still unconscious, she would be for another two hours, Percy guessed, assuming he was calculating the time right. With Kronos...it was just about anybody's guess. He knew that they wanted him to be conscious to feel the pain, so they were leaving Annabeth alone, as well as himself when he blacked out.

_Two hours_, Percy thought frantically. Two hours to get out of this place and back onto the trek to the Doors of Death. His heart sank. He'd have one shot. If he messed it up...

The whip cracked down again with a sickening sound. Gathering his strength, he twisted around, grabbed the end of the whip with his teeth, and yanked it out of Kelli's hands. Percy kicked off the ground to hear Kelli's nose break, and he cut his bindings with the whip he'd taken. He scrambled up into a standing position, wincing, holding the whip in one hand and Riptide in the other, backing up towards Annabeth's limp form. Percy lashed out with the whip, not really knowing what he was doing with it, and managed to take out the first row of monsters that'd been watching the really awesome show of 'Let's Torture Percy!'.

Annabeth groaned under him. Percy yelled curses in his head. Annabeth did _not_ need to know that he'd been tortured...nor did she need to be exposed to Tartarus...nor did he feel like getting a verbal beating for knocking her out several times. Call him a wimp, but he really didn't feel like getting into an argument with his girlfriend about the essence of feminism just after he'd been tortured...and died a couple times. Wow, you didn't say _that_ every day...

"Perrrrcy?" she slurred.

"Annabeth, I really need you to shut up right now, okay?" he said urgently.

Gods, he needed a shirt... Well, actually, he and Annabeth needed to be out of this hellhole, but a shirt would do for right now.

Nevertheless, he swung Annabeth onto his back, cringing as her dirty shirt infected his lashes, capped Riptide, stuffed the whip in his pocket, grabbed a knife (that he would later realize was Annabeth's knife—the cursed blade) from a monster and stabbed it with the dagger, and ran, tucking the knife into his sock that had somehow made it through the journey through Tartarus without getting scratched, burned, poisoned, or even so much as dirtied.

Honestly, it must've been like Indiana Jones's hat...it's owner had been tortured and died at least twice over, and yet it's still perfectly white and looking brand new...think on that for a little while. Percy huffed and wished he was his sock.

"Pererererccce, yahahahah allllrighighighight?" Annabeth asked, half-slurring, half-bouncing on Percy's back.

"Nah, just fine," Percy said sarcastically. For once, Annabeth didn't seem to pick up on the sarcasm. He kept running along the molten stream as fast as he could pace himself at. "We're only running away from Kronos in the depths of Tartarus. Perfectly fine. Piece of cake. Go back to sleep."

Annabeth squeaked and jerked out of her drunken-like state. "Did you just say that we're running away from _Kronos_?!" she whisper-yelled in his ear. "How long have I been out?! What knocked me out in the first place?!"

Percy checked his watch, which somehow was still working. "Nearly six days. And it would be my fault."

Annabeth made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "Contrary to popular opinion, everything that happens is _not_ your fault, Percy—"

"Oh, trust me on this one, Annabeth, I knocked you out of my own free will, and the first time I get another vision from that insane freak named Tartarus, I'm gonna knock you out again," Percy said grimly.

"Vision?!"

"Do you happen to have a shirt I could borrow?" Percy asked. "Mine was ripped to shreds."

"You mean besides the one on my back? No, I don't think so."

"Oh, hey, here's your dagger," Percy realized, handing it up to her. "I swear my sock is like Indiana Jones's hat or something. I've been down here for six days and it isn't so much as dirtied."

"And this matters _why_?"

"Oh, it doesn't, I'm just talking to you because I'm so glad I'm talking to _you_ and not the vision-induced you. Did that make any sense?"

Annabeth peered at her boyfriend's face, leaning over his shoulder. "Not really. Are you okay?"

"No," he admitted.

"Where?"

He visibly cringed. "Annabeth, get your elbow out of my back, please."

Annabeth jerked her elbow away from Percy's back and nearly threw up. She clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling a scream. Percy's back was shredded and very obviously infected, with dirt everywhere like he'd been rolling in it. "Oh my gods, Percy!"

She pushed herself away from Percy's back, not wanting to get it any more infected, but Percy jerked her back. "I'm having a hard time running already, I don't need to have you squirming," he said gruffly. Annabeth swallowed and went very still, hating that he was taking her full weight as well as his own on travel-weary and no doubt battered legs.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He pointed at the molten river. "The river must have a source, and I'm betting that it goes through the doors. See the ledge?" Percy pointed to the shelf that acted as a bed for the river of lava, fifteen feet away. "That break is new, signalling that the molten river is actually supposed to be a lot lower than this. It's kind of like having the Colorado River flooding the Grand Canyon. Since that break is so new, like, when-the-Doors-were-first-opened kind of 'new', the river, if you go the opposite way that it flows, will lead us right to the Doors."

Annabeth stared at her boyfriend, slightly stunned. He laughed softly at her expression. "Hey, between the water powers and being blasted out of a volcano before, I think that it's okay to know this one thing, Beth."

She shook her head at her boyfriend.

* * *

"Percy," Annabeth called softly, poking the box with her foot. He jerked awake instantly, zeroing in on the box.

"What is that?" he asked warily, stiffly standing.

Annabeth huffed. "I don't know, either, that's why I woke you up!"

Percy peeled back the top of the box with Riptide. His lip curled, but he reluctantly sheathed Riptide, opening the box fully. Annabeth watched her boyfriend's reaction, confused.

"Cool, a shirt," he said impassively. "Your laptop, you still want it?"

Annabeth shook her head. "It'll just slow us down."

Percy shook his head. "No, not really, if you carry it," he said, showing her a backpack, packed with nectar and ambrosia and First Aid stuff.

She frowned. "Are you sure it's safe?"

He laughed bitterly. "Oh yeah, he knows he owes me too much, and he knows my uncanny way to deviate from his visions of the future." He started disinfecting his wounds on his back, wincing and grimacing.

"Here, let me," Annabeth said worriedly, cleaning her hands with the disinfectant wipes and then dipping them in the nectar, rubbing them all over Percy's back, which had been steadily getting worse and greener as the Manticore poison spread.

"Never—" Percy sucked in a breath in pain, "—thought about doing that with nectar."

"Old technique," Annabeth said distractedly. She crumbled some of the ambrosia to dust in her hand and poured a little nectar in it, making a paste. "So is this. Chiron and the gods don't use it too often anymore, namely because mortal germs mixing with godly food could make it blow up, especially the ambrosia. But nectar acts as a disinfectant, used in small amounts, so I can use the paste safely now that I've washed your back."

"Awesome, always wanted to be blown up," Percy said sarcastically through clenched teeth.

Annabeth chewed her lip. "Percy, you need to relax, you're going to strain something if you keep going like this."

Percy grimaced as he relaxed and sagged forward, feeling like he was going to throw up as he forced off a vision. Tartarus seemed to like the tragic love story he had going on in his depths, because as long as Annabeth was conscious Percy was able to force off his visions. Honestly, he was worse than Aphrodite. Jeez.

Annabeth yelped as Percy felt some of his wounds reopen. He let out a small sob of pain. Annabeth swore. "Percy, I need you to sit up, okay?"

Percy grimaced as he sat up. Annabeth soaked nectar into bandages, and as soon as Percy was upright, she started wrapping them around his bare torso, criss-crossing them over his shoulders, winding them all the way down to his waist and clipping the bandages there. He thought he was going to pass out from how badly the nectar was hurting his back. Then slowly, the pain ebbed away. Behind him, Annabeth retched into the lava.

Percy turned around, concerned.

"The infection," she muttered, staring at Percy. "Between the infection and the poison, Percy, by all rights, you should be dead."

"I've been told that before," Percy said dryly. "In fact, so has Jason. And some how, we aren't."

Annabeth looked like she was resisting smacking him. "No, Percy, your bandages are _green _from the infection and poison."

"Yeah, and?"

She made a noise of exasperation and started unwinding the bandages. She showed him a section of infected bandage. "See?"

Percy still looked unconcerned, though a little disgusted. "Beth, I hate to tell you this, but if you think this was bad...no, you really don't need to know what Kronos did."

Annabeth looked like she was going to be sick again, but continued unwinding the green bandages from Percy, and replaced them with clean bandages, also soaked in nectar. She tossed the infected bandages into the lava, which practically evaporated on contact with the molten rock.

Percy breathed easier as the godly liquid healed the lashes. Annabeth sat back, admiring her handiwork, and Percy gingerly put on the white shirt. "Your turn," he announced. She compliantly sat down as Percy unwrapped her half-healed ankle, exposing it to air. "Oh, jeez, Annabeth...you somehow managed to break _and_ sprain your ankle."

Annabeth looked at him. "What?!" he protested. "You think I don't know what that looks like? I need to show you my hospital records when I was eight, then."

"Oh jeez," Annabeth rolled her eyes.

Percy set the ankle again and wrapped it up again using the boards Annabeth used and some of the many bandages. He scanned the rest of her for major injuries and came to rest on her neck. He frown and brushed her hair out of the way, to see several horizontal slices on her upper back and lower neck. "What are these from?" he asked, puzzled.

Annabeth gingerly felt the back of her neck, her eyes going wide as she felt the gashes. "I have no idea. Arachne probably got me when I wasn't paying attention."

_Or it was Kronos_, Percy thought, but didn't voice his opinion. "I'm sorry, Annabeth, but I need you to take off your shirt if you want me to treat them properly," Percy said, blushing a little.

Annabeth was also blushing as she reluctantly took off her shirt. Percy copied Annabeth and doused bandages in nectar, winding them around her neck and back, Percy trying to go as fast as he could without hurting Annabeth. When he was finished, he tossed Annabeth the other clean shirt. Both of them still blushing furiously, Annabeth threw on the shirt. Percy started packing the bookbag, but Annabeth stopped him.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "That computer has saved our lives already, but if we take it with us, it'll be sending up flares to all the monsters in Tartarus, and unfortunately, most of them want your head on a silver platter. Leave it. Daedalus would be glad to know that it distracted monsters in Tartarus. And besides, I have most of it saved on back up disks, back in the Athena cabin."

Percy set it back on the ground. He checked his pocket for Riptide, strapped the container of nectar to his belt with the last of the bandages, and stood up gingerly. Annabeth strapped her knife to her waist and pocketed the ambrosia.

"We're almost there," she said, pointing at the lava. The molten rock had always been unusually high, but now it was gushing, like it had been crammed through a small archway. Percy nodded, studying the harmful substance.

He helped Annabeth to her feet, her balancing precariously on one foot. He drew his sword as his instincts warned him of danger, looking back over his and Annabeth's shoulders. The magic that the ambrosia worked shone like a light blue wave behind them in their footsteps—goodness of the gods (insert a snort courtesy of the son of the sea) combating the darkness of Tartarus.

True to Annabeth's word, he could see, in the distance, a gigantic archway, decorated with symbols of death, with five ropes attached to the Doors.

"Almost there," he whispered desperately.

**A/N:**

**HOLY CRAP. OH MY GODS. [insert whatever other exclamations you would like] IT IS TWO HOURS AND THIRTY SIX MINUTES FROM IT BEING RELEASED IN THE US. GODS, THE ONE TIME THAT I HATE BEING SOMEWHERE OTHER THAN THE USA (I mean, come on, the lack of government says it all)! Now I have to wait like an extra week or eight for it to come out here... *bawls***

**Okay, yeah, bye.**

**(PS-you all have full rights to kill me. Excuses: little sis, sickness, and laziness. Capice?)**

**-Winter**


End file.
